And so Lotti taught them the song. And Frank and Ben struggled over the French, and they all laughed, but when she taught them the chorus, they all grew thoughtful, because the chorus went “Il y a longtemps que je t’aime, jamais je ne t’oublierai,” which means “I have loved you a long time and I will never forget you,” and as they sang Ben thought of Nathan and Sam, and Lotti thought of Isobel and Théophile and Moune, and Frank thought of the girl he had lost all those years ago but mainly of his brother Jack, and the tide turned and the little Sparrowhawk battled on and her shadow on the water grew longer.

In the cabin, the dogs slept.

They turned eastward and the air grew sticky with salt. Ahead of them now there was only blue.

“Is this the sea?” asked Ben.

“Not yet,” said Frank. “Still the Thames.”

On they went, under that infinite sky until, six hours after leaving Limehouse, they reached the mouth of the estuary.

The first wave caught Ben by surprise, yanking the tiller away from him. The Sparrowhawk lurched. Lotti, who was making sandwiches in the galley, felt her stomach heave. Ben’s blood flooded with panic. The dogs, jolted out of sleep, howled.

“Easy, lad.” Frank’s hand was over Ben’s on the tiller. “Them waves aren’t as big as they look, and the boat’s stronger than you think. Hold steady. It’ll grow calmer when we reach the open sea.”

Steady, steady. The Sparrowhawk climbed up and slid down the swells but Ben, with Frank guiding him, felt the strength of the hull beneath his feet, the power of the engine driving them on.

“You said she’d sink at the first wave,” Ben reminded him.

Frank said, “They’re not real waves.”

They reached the open sea and Frank was right, the waves did calm. On and on they went, still hugging the coast, following the Wilhelmina, until all the tea was drunk and all the sandwiches eaten and all the light was gone. Lotti yawned, and Frank sent her below to sleep. The dogs were shivering on Ben’s bunk. Lotti climbed in beside them and cuddled them. The Sparrowhawk rocked her like a cradle.

‘Jamais je ne t’oublierai …’ she sang to the dogs in a whisper.

I will never forget you …

Never

Ever

Ever.

Lotti slept.

A little later, Frank went below to use the privy, and for a few moments Ben was left alone at the tiller out on the darkening water, beneath a sky full of stars, and now something new was happening, something marvelous … The wake of the Wilhelmina and the wash of the Sparrowhawk swirled green with phosphorescence, and the two boats stood like jewels on luminous clouds in the oil-black sea.

“Magic,” breathed Ben.